


With a Love this Deep

by nerdhourariel



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdhourariel/pseuds/nerdhourariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(One-Shot) After Marian's return, Regina disappears, choosing to hide from her pain and the cause of it all. But a vision of what could be soon might fix that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a Love this Deep

_Disclaimer – I own nothing. Unbeta’d so all mistakes are my doing. I had to write something after the finale. Have hope fellow shippers, it’ll all work out in the end. It’s gonna be a bumpy road but they’ll get their happy ending._

 

**With a Love this Deep**

She’s hidden herself away since Marian’s arrival. Has shut everyone out. She doesn’t want them to see her broken. And she is broken.

Henry tries. He comes to the house almost every day. And every day he knocks on her bedroom door, hoping she’ll come out and talk to him. Because he knows, he knows she must be hurting and a part of him hurts too. And she wants to try for him.

But there’s a wound in her chest that won’t heal.

And deep down she feels she deserves this heartbreak.

Villains don’t get happy endings. That’s what Greg Mendel had told her.

And she believes it now more than ever.

So she hides.

She can’t see them. She can’t see how happy Robin is to have Marian back. How little Roland flocks to her and calls her mommy.

And it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. She knows Roland was never hers, wouldn’t have called her mother. Or maybe she knows he would have and that’s why it hurts so much more.

Because she thought they could have been happy.

But villains don’t get happy endings.

And she would never tear apart their happiness for her own. Couldn’t do that now even if she wanted to.

She’s redeemed. And even if it feels like her very soul is shattering apart, she will not return to her old ways. She cannot lose Henry too. And she would lose him if that happened.

She just needs time to build herself back up again. To carefully craft walls that no thief can get through.

And she will.

But for now she drinks, because it’s all that numbs the pain. All that quells the tears that keep coming even though she hates crying. She’s done far too much of it in this life. She vows she will never cry again.

But that vow disappears after each fresh wave of pain and each sob that shudders through her.

And she wishes it would go away. That hope for a second chance being torn away from her, she wishes she could take it back.

Villains don’t get hope.

Hope is worthless.

It only causes pain.

When the tears finally stop, when she’s too worn out to cry anymore and too numb to feel, something odd happens.

She thinks it’s the drink at first.

But she recognizes the soft glow of the magic. And it’s an odd color, not white, not quite purple, a mix of the two. And it’s so faint it’s almost like a mist.

She doesn’t know how it’s happening, but it is.

And the mist surrounds her until she can no longer see her bedroom.

She drops the glass and it shatters on stone floors. And all at once she’s sober and wearing a dark gown.

She’s back in her castle.

But it’s changed.

It’s lighter than she remembers. The windows are open, letting in the warm air from outside. And a breeze sweeps through, bringing with it the smell of flowers and the faint scent of forest.

And she freezes.

That’s what he smells like.

And it’s everywhere, that smell. All over the castle. All over her.

She can’t escape it.

And she thinks this is a cruel nightmare she’s fallen into.

She tears down the hallways, heading for her chambers. She needs to wake up. The fastest way to do so is to jump. To fall so hard you wake.

But with each step she realizes how different the castle is.

Most of it is the same. The same hallways, the same structure. But there are small signs of life. A worn carpet, fraying where many feet have run and stumbled over it. Small feet, she thinks.

There are scratches on suits of armor. Tears in tapestries from swords and arrows piercing them. Accidentally, of course.

No one would deliberately harm her stuff. Not if they knew her at all.

And as she passes down another hallway, she freezes.

She hears the laughter before she sees them.

“Roland Locksley never lets a criminal get away!” A boy shouts. And it’s Roland, she knows in her heart it’s him. And he’s older but the lilt is the same, the kindness in his voice is the same.

But the second voice makes her heart stop. “I’m not a criminal!” A little girl shouts. And she’s angry, and Regina would laugh if she wasn’t in such a state of shock.

“It’s just for the game,” Roland says.

“Oh. Okay then I’m what you said,” the little girl replies and she screams and laughs. And her laughter gets closer.

And Regina forgets about the forest scent, forgets about waking up.

This is a dream she needs to see.

The little girl runs past her and she’s maybe five or six. And she’s laughing, her dark hair blowing wildly as she sprints. And the smile on her face would melt the most frozen of hearts. And Roland follows, and he’s taller than he is in reality, and he catches up to her and tries to tag her.

But the little girl is too quick and she ducks out of the way.

Regina shouts to warn Roland, but he never hears her.

She’s a witness to these events.

And Roland crashes into a suit of armor and it falls to pieces, tearing a tapestry with it.

And the two kids just stare at the destruction.

Roland rubs his arms as he finally pulls himself to his feet, he’s a little bruised but fine. Mostly concerned with the damage he’s done. And Regina would check him for injuries herself if she were able.

But he doesn’t see her. And he’s okay.

Roland looks to his little sister, his eyes wide.

He checks the tear in the tapestry and it’s so big he can put his whole hand through it. And he wears a frown that’s so serious, Regina wants to laugh. It’s a piece of fabric, she thinks. It can be repaired.

And it’s the little girl that seems to understand that. Because she’s the one that breaks first.

She laughs and laughs until she falls over. And then she laughs harder. And it echoes off the stone walls, making the room brighter.

“It’s not funny!” Roland shouts, but he smiles despite himself. And then he starts laughing, “Maybe it is a little bit.”

And the little girl starts imitating his face when he fell. “You looked so stupid!”

“Hey! Mom said not to call people that,” Roland commands and Regina is proud of her son for teaching his little sister. And he calls her mom and there’s something in her soul that warms at the notion.

“But you did! And people are. Sometimes.”

And Regina smiles at her daughter. She isn’t wrong.

“And if you tell mama I said stupid, I’ll tell her you wanted to play chase even when she said not to in the castle and then you’ll be in trouble.” The little girl crosses her arms and Roland sighs.

“And then I’ll tell papa you were the one who stole the cakes.” Roland smirks.

The little girl’s mouth hangs open in a shocked expression.

“No honor amongst thieves,” Regina says to herself. And she watches her children hatch a scheme to cover up their accident and she loves every second of it. She doesn’t care that this dream has her on the sidelines. That it feels so real she could lose herself to it.

She only watches a future that she wishes she could have.

And in the back of her mind she knows that you can’t dream of a face you’ve never seen. And the little girl’s face she’s sure she’s never seen.

And she’s heard of visions before. It’s happened to a few, but the magic was rare, and she’s never possessed the ability. She knows this can’t be true. It can’t be that magic.

Because Marian is back. This is impossible.

The vision changes. It fades and transforms, taking her where she needs to go.

She finds herself in a hallway in her house back in Storybrooke.

And she hears crying. A baby crying and wailing for her. And she feels an ache in her heart.

She goes to the sound. But stops outside the nursery when she hears _him_ cooing over the crying infant.

“Shh, mama needs to sleep,” Robin soothes. But the baby keeps crying.

And Regina doesn’t want to see him. Doesn’t want to have to say goodbye to him again. Because when she wakes this will all be over.

But the baby keeps crying. And every wail is like a gut punch and she needs to see if the baby is okay. She never wants to hear her daughter cry ever again. And she’ll kill anything that causes that little girl pain.

Then she thinks that the little girl isn’t real. That she will never meet her. That she will never have her. And she can’t open the door.

She curses her mind for being so cruel. And her soul feels like it’s shattering all over again. And she places a palm to the door, wishing it could all be real.

Wishing she could have had this.

A happy life. A happy family. A happy ending.

And the door creaks. And Robin opens it, staring at her, his brows furrowed in confusion.

And she realizes she isn’t on the sidelines for this dream.

“Well.” He looks down to the infant in his arms, “Look at that, little one. You call and mama comes running. Even when she should trust Papa to handle things and get her sleep,” Robin jokes, giving Regina a look.

And Regina takes the infant so smoothly, like she’s done a thousand times with Henry, like she’s sure she’s done many times with this one. And the baby stops crying almost instantly.

“Guess mama’s your favorite,” Robin says with a smile. He kisses the baby’s forehead and Regina doesn’t want to look at him, but she can’t help herself.

And she realizes she’s crying.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, placing a hand on her cheek. And she feels warm, and her heart aches. She wants all of this so badly.

She wants this to be real.

“This isn’t real,” she says.

“Of course it is,” he tells her, rubbing circles on her cheek.

“It can’t be. Villains don’t get happy endings.” And she holds the baby tighter. She doesn’t want this to go away. She wants to believe she could have a happy ending.

“Good thing you’re not a villain,” he answers. “You’re my soul mate.”

He kisses her and she smiles into the kiss. It heals every broken piece of her soul, warms her heart, repairs all the damage in one moment. And when it’s over she feels lighter.

And the lion tattoo is etched across her memory, lit up with green pixie dust telling her where she can find her home.

But how can she find that when he has his Marian in reality. When he has his family back together.

And then she finds her answer.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with and no place I’d rather be than here with you and our children. This is my happy ending. And I hope it’s yours too.”

And those are the words that echo in her mind as she wakes. That set a fire of hope in her soul.

When she picks herself up off the floor of her bedroom, she doesn’t feel like wallowing anymore.

There may be a road ahead for them, but she knows they’ll get there. They’ll be in that nursery someday. They’ll be in that castle.

She has hope. And happy endings always begin with hope.

And as ice creeps over the town of Storybrooke, she knows there’s a new threat to face. And she’ll help just as she’s always done.

Because she isn’t a villain, she’s a hero.

And heroes always get happy endings.


End file.
